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Summer storms in the valley of the Celts arrive on soft, playful kitten feet bringing
relief from the summer heat for man and beast. The plants in the fields gratefully lift
their faces to welcome a cool drink given of the Gods. These friendly visitors leave the
air as crisp and clean as the newly washed linen that the young maid hangs in the sunshine
to dry. This is usually the case, but not on this day, my children, no, not on this
day.

This storm arrived roaring like the lions from the great forests of the south, with
teeth tearing and claws snatching at the humble hovels of the villagers. Merchants
dashed hither and thither moving quickly to protect their wares from the onslaught, and
householders rushed home to prevent the rising waters from crossing their thresholds.
More often than not, these heroic efforts were for naught. Little did the population of
the valley know that this was only the first of a procession of pummelings that would
increase in ferocity with each turn of the sun.

Living among the brethren, was a Druid of great renown; honored by the people
and respected by kings and queens of many lands. Tall as the oak tree and thrice as
strong, he is known to the people as ToeKnee; a name never forgotten as his great hand
moves with purpose from his toe to his knee. So great is his power that he passes
through the valley disguised by magick as a twin brother of a different mother detected
by none, but leaving mild confusion in his mighty wake.

Other Druids in the land work their magicks with wands and staffs crafted of crystals.
These draw upon the power of lightning to bring protection to the people through
the communication of arcane knowledge. Try as they might on this dark day, no spark
was available to come to their aid. The people despaired until it was recalled that
ToeKnee was born of the oak in a storm such as this, and relied only on a humble sprig
of blackberry to aid him in his work.

Among the people lived a woman, a queen among queens, her cloak of feathers so
pure, white and bright that the people marveled they must have come from the moon.
The tale passed from tongue to ear of ToeKnee’s wondrous sprig, which only came to
life in his learned hand. The story finally found Feather of the Moon, who had only the
words of the ovates to guide her in bringing succor to her people. This mighty queen
needed more. She needed the phenomenal visions that only came from ToeKnee and
his blackberry sprig.

After struggling through the storm with the wind and rain rending her beautiful
cloak of feathers, the queen entered the hall of the Druid she sought. She begged him to
climb the mountain and bring visions of when the storms would abate. The queen was
amazed that with no thought of the perilous journey, ToeKnee anticipated the need of
the people and ascended the mountain on his own volition. Under the caress of ToeKnee’s capable fingers, the blackberry sprig sprang to
life and shared the vision with the queen. In brilliant
colors, she could see that a miracle had occurred. The
storms divided and passed along each side of the valley.
The Gods had spared the people, and all would be
well soon. Grateful and satisfied that the vision was
true, the queen departed to spread the news throughout
the village.

At last, the clouds did indeed part. The sun blessed
the valley with his beneficent smile once more, and the
Celts were left hale and hardy to battle another day.

So ends another tale of the valley.

—————

What really happened: It’s true that the site for the
Pagan Spirit Gathering is a rather remote location,
and most cell phone services are not available there.
We were rather surprised that Tony’s blackberry had
reception. In fact, I was really surprised when I
called from home and he answered in a porta-potty!

Anyhoo, Moon Feather, who is on the festival staff,
heard that the blackberry was working, so she went
find him and add to her radio information from the
national weather service. The best reception was on
top of the hill so Tony trudged up there and saved the
video information from www.weather.com. It provided
a visual showing the worst of the weather had
passed on either side of the festival site without major
damage. Some reports were warning of hail and
tornado threats that would be devastating for people
spending the week in tents. We did indeed have good
reason to worry; the danger was real.

It is also true that we usually camp next to a gentleman
who bears a rather remarkable resemblance to
Tony. John has been mistaken for Tony and vice
versa more that once over the years. One afternoon,
John’s wife and I dressed Tony as John was that day,
and sent him down Merchants’ Row. This did indeed
cause some confusion providing for much hilarity in
the Keltrian camp.

If you would like to hear more about creating new
mythology, let me know and I will be happy to oblige.